Angels Fall When
by SoundsRight
Summary: What really does happen to them? Care to take a guess? Rated T for sexual implications. England/Japan.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.  
Note: I would be using their character names, mostly. This is an AU fic—somewhat. Also, I would like to apologize early for any out of character behaviour and/or poor plotting.**

**Warning****: This is a BL (BoysLove) fic. If you are not interested or strongly against it, I insist that you should look for something else to read. Thank You.  
**

…

The thin, crisp air of an autumn evening relaxes the Japanese man sitting out on the porch who takes in another view of his simplistic garden. A cup of tea already losing its warmth is starting to cool; the man has made no sign that he'll drink it. Instead, he looks up at the dark navy-coloured sky and is confronted with the bright, full moon.

Slow winds carry the dry leaves and flower petals fallen from the tall trees of his home. Kiku is not so enthusiastic with what his inevitable chore is going to add up to his list tomorrow. It is a small price to pay for such a beautiful night, he supposed.

With a small sigh, Kiku finally reaches for the cool cup of tea—

There was a loud and slightly earth-shaking impact. Flocks of birds perched on trees beyond his home's wooden boundaries instantly fly away. Something has fallen into the middle of his garden.

Kiku is unfortunately doused with cold tea. He waves one hand in front of him to fan away the thin fog of dust that temporarily blinds him. The man uses the other to cover his mouth.

The dust has finally settled. It reveals to Kiku a long trail on the ground as if a heavy rock has been moved a few moments ago. He curiously follows the deep line that had just ruined his garden, and he stops at an odd mass of white in his fish pond—it begins to move.

Kiku decides to hide behind a wooden pillar, but he is well prepared for a surprise attack (one could never know). He turns his back on the strange thing and wonders what it could possibly be. Before making a conclusion, he glances back towards his pond and sees a human figure dragging itself out of it.

Without lowering his guard but with curiosity for the other, Kiku cautiously walks closer to the struggling being. He stops at an arm's-length distance away from the other. He is suddenly facing another man with blond hair and—

"The wind threw me off," the blond says in imperfect Japanese. "What weather you have!" The stranger is now able to stand up but winces at his triumph. Cuts and bruises form around his pale skin, mud is all over him here and there, and large, crimson stains form at one side of his abdomen, near his chest, and on one side of his face. Kiku immediately reacts to the iron, coppery stench and does not recognise anything else.

"Y-you're bleeding…" Kiku silently blurts out. The other retorts sarcastically, "I didn't notice."

--

Kiku tried not to stare at it; he tried not to even talk about it. But how can he possibly be able to ignore it if it's just there in plain view?

He is failing to focus on his task of attending to the other's deep wounds. "You have never seen an angel before?" the blond man then asks as if it was something common to all. He is well aware of the other's discomfort.  
"N-no."

"Fake ones also?" the stranger smirks and flaps his large wings as if to assure that they are genuine. Kiku sees the other grimace and instantly regretting his last action. One or two white feathers softly drift down to the floor. The angel looks almost worriedly at it but averts his attention to the Japanese man.

Kiku does not ask if anything is wrong. Rather, he is trying to shy away from the other's piercing gaze.

Another feather slowly falls into the ground. Neither of them notices.

--

Weeks have followed. The two of them are sitting on the porch overlooking the now re-finished garden. The cool autumn air is becoming its biting winter form. The last remaining leaves fall straight into the ground without its usual grace.

A saké bottle is in between the two to keep them warm. Kiku shivers slightly in the cold weather.

"They're broken," the angel suddenly announces rather glumly.  
"…Arthur-san?"  
"My wings… they're broken. Can't you see?"

Kiku glances at the Englishman's back and sees the pair of lifeless wings losing its many soft, white feathers—it's even beginning to become smaller than when it used to be. A feather falls into the wooden floor like a snowflake. The smaller man does not tell the other. It is already known, he is sure.

As if on cue, real snowflakes begin to fall slowly. The gray skies above begin to let more of its frozen rain drift down into the earth. The sharp branches of the bare trees contrast with its soft foreground and background.

Kiku is not able to see the first fall of snowflakes, however. His eyes are closed as his thin fingers bury themselves in the other's golden hair. His mouth is pressed against Arthur's and opens at the other's demand.

There is no taste of alcohol from either of them. The bottle now cast aside has yet to be opened.

"_Arthur_…"

Warmth runs hotly in them.

--

A month has drifted by. Arthur's wounds have not yet fully recovered. He still will not tell how he got them, though. "Something unnecessary to know," he would say.

The freezing air blows hard against the walls of his home. The night is darker than before, almost pitch black. He and Arthur embrace one another under the thick blanket of the futon. The moon dimly lights the outlines of their bare bodies.

"When does an angel fall, Kiku?" the Englishman asks unexpectedly with light amusement in his voice. He plays with the smaller man's midnight hair but focuses his sharp, green eyes at the other's own deep, dark-coloured ones.

Contemplative silence ensues.

"When they have done something unforgivable." Kiku replies uncertainly, sounding as if without consideration to the other. The angel smiles at the blunt remark.  
"Probably."

Arthur kisses Kiku full on the lips.

They both sleep exhausted.

--

Another week passes by. Arthur's wings are now less than half the size it used to be. All but three feathers have fallen to reveal bare, bat-like wings. All of his wounds are healed and Kiku is removing the recently changed bandages on the other.

The ones on his head and abdomen are removed. Arthur stops the other from completely removing the bandages around his chest; he places Kiku's hand on the closed wound. Kiku looks oddly at the other. "Arthur?" he asks, bemused.  
"I'll prove you wrong."

The Englishman smiles. He lets the other's hand drop from his chest; the bandage falls off.

A small gust of wind blows onto Kiku's face. His eyes are open, but he does not see the Englishman anymore. Instead, there is a dry autumn leaf that almost covers the three white feathers. The leaf has a golden-coloured hue that reminds him of Arthur's hair.

Kiku's eyes brim with tears. He has been staring absent-mindedly at the leaf for the longest time.

His eyes were open for too long. That must be it.

--

Winter has finally left. Spring has started to show.

Two of the three feathers have already vanished long before. The one left is sitting on a low table by the leaf— it begins to fade.

--

All flowers are in bloom, all trees have its branches overpopulated with fresh, green leaves, and the freezing air has become milder than the months before. Kiku hears someone knocking on his door. He slowly walks towards it.

He opens the door— Kiku's eyes widen at the sight of a man with golden hair and piercing green eyes. In one hand, the Englishman carries a wicker basket. It had a thin blanket draped over whatever is inside and a card that reads out: 'Merry Christmas' on top of it.

"When does an angel fall?" Arthur then repeats the question from long ago, a triumphant smile growing. He waits for his answer. His free hand reaches to hold the other's chin up.

"…to come back." Kiku replies softly, mouth still slightly agape by the other's surprise appearance.

Arthur pulls the other into a long kiss.

"I would have come sooner, but they wouldn't let me out. They all thought that it was miraculous for me to have survived; they all wanted to keep a close eye on me," the Englishman laughs. Kiku wraps his arms around the other's neck.

The forgotten basket barks.

The last remaining feather has finally faded away.

**..**

**I was supposed to be cruel and make Arthur die, but I ended up making him live and give Pochi-kun as a present.**

**I'll leave what happened to Arthur up to you, alright?  
Some things are better off not being talked about, after all.**

**Also, I know that their romance came in rather abruptly.  
But I like sudden romances . . . at times.  
Ha ha ha.**

**Thank You for Reading,  
SoundsRight**


End file.
